The Logistics of Waxing
by silverstreakednight
Summary: Spock has a secret, and Kirk is determined to find out what it is. Will revelations be revealed in a bout of silliness? Read to find out.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own any part of the Star Trek franchise or its characters.

Though if anyone wanted to give me one as a Christmas present I would not object. Come on... Anybody? No? Oh alright, I understand... Getting through customs would be an issue... *sighs* But a girl can dream...

Moving on, welcome everyone to my first story ever on this site (Woot!). It's a drabble that's been haunting me for the past month or so to write so here goes. I must sincerely and absolutely thank **januaryfreeze92 **for putting up with my silliness and betaing this story. Thank you! Now enjoy. ^^

* * *

James Tiberius Kirk was a troubled man.

He had a burning question hovering at the back of his mind, an enigma which he had so far failed to piece together. It weighed down heavily upon him as he sat in his Captain's chair, waiting for Chekov to give the signal that they were approaching orbit of some Class M planet that they were required to check up on.

Okay, maybe it wasn't that big, but it still nagged at him, day-by-day, on the bridge and off. To the point that he may or may not have become obsessive.

This something, this puzzle, this enigma, was Commander Spock.

Now, truth be told, there were few things that did not confuse the captain, especially when it came to his first officer. This is what made him tend to ask exactly what was on his mind aloud and unfiltered. And, for the most part, he was not as adamant when it came to his first officer's reluctance to disclose certain private information. He contended himself with the short, impersonal, unattached responses to his inquires and would normally respect refusal to acknowledge certain questions of a less important nature. Only occasionally did he pull rank, or attempt to, as Spock would then be inclined to recite Starfleet Protocol as to the nature of rank in reference to inquiry of information of a personal nature from personnel. He went further on to list the ratios and likelihood of such information serving a useful purpose, in which case Jim would either pester himself out or simply concede to defeat, something that did not come easily to James Tiberius Kirk, captain of the USS Enterprise.

So the Captain had learned to save himself - and the crew - the headache by keeping his inquires at a minimum. And it worked for a time. That is until, of course, the Captain discovered the White Whale in Spock.

It all began with a month-long study of the Tundra of Delta Vega, an attempt to investigate the life present in the otherwise assumed uninhabited glacial desert. An away team had been picked to explore the planet and record their findings that would be later published in an attempt to prevent future mishaps such as the one Jim had experienced on his first 'visit'.

And it was that here that Jim Kirk began to notice something very suspicious about his fist officer.

Now, as expected, you learn a lot about the people around you during missions. Especially month long missions, where, besides work, you are in constant proximity during both sleeping and waking hours, meals, showers... You get the point. One can't help but notice the small details during the morning and nightly routines of each member of the crew. Wash, shave, brush. Kirk had unconsciously began to carefully watch each member in the mornings as hints of a beard would appear on each face of the men, soon to disappear by the gentle scrape of a blade. All of course, except for one.

Spock.

While each member had a slight stubble every day or so in the morning, Spock consistently had smooth, perfectly unflawed, pale with a slightly green tinge, skin.

First he had equated it to being a Vulcan thing, that perhaps they didn't grow their hair as quickly, or perhaps Spock - not needing as much rest as the others - simply did it while on lookout. Both theories were shot down by the man in question, who seemed affronted at the idea of 'wasting time on unnecessary distractions while on duty'. This did nothing to sate his curiosity. Damn Vulcan logic.

When observation throughout the month proved futile, he had resorted to more drastic measures, such as looking through the crew's belongings while they were otherwise occupied. This had lead him to discover many things he'd never thought he'd have to about his crew. But when it came to his search of the Vulcan's Possessions - the perfectly pressed and creased pants, shirts, undergarments, polished boots and toiletries (as well as the rather tempting lacy red underwear belonging to Lt. Uhura, which he chose to claim for himself) - there still proved to be one essential item that was always missing...

This continued on for the next mission and the next...

Oh, you get the picture.

Back on the ship, Jim had begun to leave subtle hints about to the topic in question. Once he'd stopped Spock as he was making his way into the medical bay to ask. "Say Spock, you're a guy. Tell me your thoughts: Three blade or four blade razors?" He emphasized his seriousness by holding up one of each in his hands.

Spock halted in his step, a look of deep thought crossing his features he answered in an irritatingly monotonic voice. "The packaging on the three blade promises maximum efficiency. Though the four blades could be arguably estimated to provide a more rapid and accurate cut. From an economic viewpoint, both are of a relatively equal in market value. However further experimentation would provide a much more accurate analysis of efficiency. Now if you shall excuse me Captain, I have an appointment." With that, the Vulcan went in for his checkup.

Kirk still couldn't erase the expression Bones had given him from his mind.

But it was presently, just as they were about to board the planet of Nautilus, that Jim finally cracked.

He had to know.

It was a matter of principle.

And his sanity...

It was more than just himself he was thinking about, it was the survival of the future... Of science!

Yeah, Spock would have to see the logic in that.

And so it was, as the Enterprise settled into orbit, Jim finally turned to the pointy-eared Commanding Officer next to him and had the courage to ask him the one thing that had been nagging at him for the past months.

"Spock, why don't you shave?"

***

Spock thought he had come to understand most human female beauty rituals.

Eye-brow plucking.

Which, though a tad painful at first, appeared to serve a specific purpose. The results seemed to create an aesthetically pleasing, symmetrical lining of the brows which would remove unnecessary distraction during interactions, specifically for those whom had a unibrow disposition. Though, as a Vulcan, his brows were naturally heightened in length and therefore did not place importance upon it in the overall scheme.

Spas and mudbaths.

Vulcans had a similar way of bathing - communal baths. A rather odd way of relaxation, but it less unusual than others. He found the use of fruits to blind themselves to be rather strange, until Nyota had once taken it upon herself to show him the advantages that came with eating fruit off of one's... Nonetheless, his outlook on the matter had been successfully altered.

Face masks.

Usually green, Spock had noted. This was also the reason why he'd once mistaken Cadet Gaila for Nyota, believing the Cadet had been Uhura in the middle of this ritual- Not that the Cadet had objected. The dark room had not helped matters. He could still not look directly at Cadet Gaila for long, at least not without her sending him a rather provocative wink or Nyota bursting into laughter. His ears turned green at the very thought.

Obsession with pimples.

While most males - unless you were Kirk - ignored it, females tended to become extremely flustered, doing all to remove the offending spot. And if not successful, remedies such as makeup or band-aids would be used to cover it. Though it seemed to have the opposite effect of distracting attention from the offending flakes of dead skin and fungus. Fortunately, Vulcans never had to suffer such a dispossession, due to their diet and prompt cleaning habits.

Temporary enhancement of the chest and rear.

Spock still failed to see the logic behind stuffing silicon and tissues in these areas of the body, if only temporarily, as they served no real purpose in the grand scheme of things. Luckily, Vulcan's were well equipped in such areas. As was Nyota... Not that she ever failed to demonstrate..

There were others of course, as human females, he had learned, were prone to aesthetics over practicality much of the time and delighted in changing their appearance through cosmetics and any deal of other rituals, each with their own personal reason and effect, some less logical than others. But there had been one ritual, he had not quite understood.

Waxing.

His fascination had started at the age of eight, when he had once walked into the open bedroom of his parents - about to notify them of a his recent discovery he had made while studying. He'd spotted his mother placing pad-like-strips on her legs.

"Are you injured mother?" He inquired slowly, wondering if the pads were to cover some kind of bleeding or rash. A short cry later proved to him nothing was amiss, and the hair from her leg that had previously been there was now gone. When he inquired as to the nature of its function, she'd pushed it off, showing signs he associated with embarrassment.

When he'd spoken to his father, Sarek told him it was something only human females troubled

themselves with and therefore something he would never need encounter.

Who knew Vulcans could ever be wrong.

For many years, he had forgotten of the incident, only to be reminded of it one afternoon when he had returned to the domicile of his and Nyota's, his mate. While waiting for her to exit the washroom one afternoon, he had heard a loud and familiar smack of peeled wrap, followed by a simultaneous hiss of pain. Concerned, he followed the noise in investigation of the source.

There she stood, naked except for a towel, hair glossy and damp from the shower she had just taken. Trickles of clear water droplets ran down her legs onto the floor.

"Nyota?" He watched as his lover's head snapped up, first in shock and then embarrassment.

"Spock...." She started as she stared, awe-struck, into the confused Vulcan's eyes that sat beneath his quizzically raised eyebrow. She noted his confusion and curiosity and realized that she would have to further explain the scenario.

"Go to the living space. I'll be there in a minute, _k'dwa_." She said, smiling at him endearingly until she was left to her own devices of cleaning up and preparing herself for the possibilities of what was about to occur.

***

Spock chose not to comment on the fact that she had arrived one minute and fifty-six seconds late, having discovered at an earlier age that 'a minute' was a subjective term when it came to humans.

Nyota sat down and turned to him, opting to be the first to break the awkward silence. "Now then, is there anything you'd like to ask me?" She asked, her expression worried. She had just given him permission to fill in the gaps of knowledge pertaining to a subject he had not thought about since the age of eight years and three quarters.

"This ritual..."

"Waxing," Nyota prompted.

"Is it a form of masochism females enjoy?"

"No... Definitely not." Nyota blushed, "It's not like that. It's... A more efficient method of hair removal. I used to have to shave every two or three days. With waxing, it's only around every three weeks or so. It's also much faster." She spoke, her cheeks still flushed. "And more accurately removes more hair at once."

"But it is painful..."

"It's very momentary. And it's much less hazardous than getting cuts."

"So, in this case, the end justifies the means?"

"If you want to be Machiavellian about it... It's a logical alternative, especially while on missions. One less thing to worry about, you understand?" She looked up at him, searching his face expectantly for his reaction.

"Yes, it is more logical. Hmm..."

A few days later, Uhura had returned from dinner early and walked idly into the room. Just as she was about to announce her presence, she heard something very similar to a smack. Frowning curiously, she followed the sound, only to find an unaware Spock in the middle of placing large wax strips on each of his cheeks. She watched a moment in wonderment before Spock broke the silence and ripped the strip clean off his left cheek. His normally composed face broke as

he swore loudly, a word that not even she could translate. And looking at him, with his green cheek and wincing expression, Uhura couldn't help but let out a small giggle. It seemed not even Vulcan control could restrain everything.

Spock turned at the noise, looking momentarily unsettled and uncertain as Nyota approached. She immediately sobered at the anxious expression on his face. Smiling lovingly at him, she reached under the cupboards for a bottle of clear substance, putting a generous amount on her hand and reaching out to touch his now sore - albeit smooth - cheek. She noticed him wince but soon relax under her touch as she began to smooth out the irritated skin with small, delicate circles.

"I, um, probably should have warned you it takes some getting used to," She whispered, holding back her laughter at his glare. Hoping to distract him, she reached up to hold his cheek as she kissed him softly. Just as he began to respond, she reached her free hand towards his right cheek, tugging at the corner of the strip before pulling-

This time the whole ship heard his scream.

***

So when Captain James Tiberius Kirk asked his Vulcan first officer flat-out why he never found need to shave, Spock replied smoothly with:

"I wax."

And that was that. Ignoring the Captain's gob-smacked expression, Spock's attention stayed on the control panel where Lt. Uhura stood, who not even trying to control her glee as she smirked and sent a mischievous wink his way.

Determined to remove that smirk - and divert the attention from himself - by any means necessary, the Commander turned back to Jim, who looked flushed as he searched for a response. Not giving him the chance to do so, Spock glanced down from Kirk's face to his chest. "Captain, is that a piece of Lt. Uhura's undergarments hanging from your pocket?"

The air was tense for a moment on the deck. The rest of the crew waited in anticipation for the explosion of anger. It seemed the captain was the first to come to his senses, cursing loudly as he fled the scene, just as Nyota began to chase after him on the ship, eyes flaming. "James Tiberius Kirk! Come back here! I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!"

Spock smiled, wincing as he did so.

* * *

This was prompted by a not-too-long ago conversation with friends on the topic in question. Experiences- or should I say, horror stories- were shared which tweaked my imagination on how logical waxing was. It also helped googling and finding pictures from TOS episode "Mirror, Mirror" of Spock's counterpart with a goatee! *looks gobsmacked* I know, right? A definite must see for any Spock fan.

All in all, thank you for reading and feel free to review!

P.S. Thank you Redflowercactus for your observation of the error on my part. x.x


End file.
